E
ELKRIDGESS
Guest
Saturday was the opening day for me and my son's elk hunt here in Idaho. Last year I was unable to hunt with my then 12 year old son during his first big game hunt due to an overseas military deployment. When I found out in July that he had drawn a good controlled bull tag, needless to say he and I were pretty excited. I made it back home a couple weeks ago and we have been preparing for the hunt and hitting the range since I got back.
We left home at 0330 and made it up to a ranch in our unit that we had permission to cross to get to some BLM ground that a big herd of elk had been crossing frequently each morning as they returned from raiding the fields at night. The landowner had told us that no one else would be there, however when we pulled in at 0630, we found that he had given a friend his landowner tag and they were just going through the gate to the spot we planned to hunt.
Plan B involved hitting the high ground and glassing. After finding hundreds of deer, and no elk, we finally located what looked like a couple of decent bulls and 5 cows, a few miles away across a canyon. We started after them and closed the gap. As we approached the spot, we began to hear cow calls, and found ourselves in within a few hundred yards of a very active elk herd. There were at least 4 bulls, sounding off as if they were in the middle of the rut. My son thought it was the "coolest thing". We picked our way through sparse timber as cows fed around us, thinking we might be busted any second. We continued to hear big raspy bugles coming from thicker timber a little farther away, but there was no way to put a stalk on him, with all the cows between us and him. Finally we located another 6 point bull feeding away from us, with no shot. The bull bedded and we looked for a good shooting position. Dakota was having a hard time holding steady due to excitement, as he experienced his first full blown case of "bull fever". Finally with shooting sticks extended and me sitting behind him he started to feel a little more confident. The bull suddenly stood and presented a perfect quartering away shot, with the rangefinder reading 205 yards. Coda fired and the bull appeared to stagger, He fired again as the elk almost lost its footing, but then took a few steps downhill. The third shot shaved hair from the neck, as the bull then headed uphill into thicker timber.
We were pretty confident that the shots were good, but with minimal blood found and fresh tracks going everywhere as the herd scattered, an hour and a half of searching produced no bull. I was starting to feel sick, wondering if what had to this point been a perfect day, was going to end with a lost wounded animal and the regrets and second guessing that comes with that.
Zig zagging up the hill and glassing continued to show us just blown down logs, and then finally there he was lying down with his head up looking at us at 80 yards. He was unable to stand and make a run for it, and the crack of the rifle put him out for good.
While skinning him out, we found that the first two shots were within 6 inches of each other and both had angled up through the lower lobes of the lungs and were found next to each other under the skin on the other side near the front shoulder. The Barnes TSX bullets had mushroomed perfectly, and looked to have retained nearly 100% of thier weight. Can't even begin to explain how proud I am of his shooting, his patience and his attitude throughout the whole ordeal.
The bull had travelled 400 yards after taking two shots to the vitals. What incredible and tough animals!
Coda had taken the first shot at 1430 and the last load of meat made it to the truck at midnight. After driving up to Salmon to make sure we had enough gas to make it home, we got back home at 0330, 24 hours after we left the previous morning. That 24 hour period spent getting reaquainted with my son and sharing this adventure is priceless and the memory will never dim. Following my son down off the mountain in the dark, a pack frame on his back with the head and horns.....I could not have been prouder or more greatful for the family I have been blessed with.
Our friend Leonard was instrumental in all aspects of this hunt. He scouted for us while I was overseas, contacted landowners, went along with us on the hunt and carried more than his share of meat off the mountain, as well as gave us a lesson on the "gutless method" of breaking down an elk. Would not have been successful without him. He also took my son out on his first deer hunt last year, while I was overseas, and made sure it was a great, successful experience ( muley doe ).
Now the bad news...After testing the camera the night before, it was dead and even new batteries would not revive it. No field photos from this excursion, is really a bummer.
Best of luck for all of those who still have tags, and thanks to those who have shared thier stories so far.
Now......I get to go try an find another bull, for me! But nothing will beat this day spent with my son.
We left home at 0330 and made it up to a ranch in our unit that we had permission to cross to get to some BLM ground that a big herd of elk had been crossing frequently each morning as they returned from raiding the fields at night. The landowner had told us that no one else would be there, however when we pulled in at 0630, we found that he had given a friend his landowner tag and they were just going through the gate to the spot we planned to hunt.
Plan B involved hitting the high ground and glassing. After finding hundreds of deer, and no elk, we finally located what looked like a couple of decent bulls and 5 cows, a few miles away across a canyon. We started after them and closed the gap. As we approached the spot, we began to hear cow calls, and found ourselves in within a few hundred yards of a very active elk herd. There were at least 4 bulls, sounding off as if they were in the middle of the rut. My son thought it was the "coolest thing". We picked our way through sparse timber as cows fed around us, thinking we might be busted any second. We continued to hear big raspy bugles coming from thicker timber a little farther away, but there was no way to put a stalk on him, with all the cows between us and him. Finally we located another 6 point bull feeding away from us, with no shot. The bull bedded and we looked for a good shooting position. Dakota was having a hard time holding steady due to excitement, as he experienced his first full blown case of "bull fever". Finally with shooting sticks extended and me sitting behind him he started to feel a little more confident. The bull suddenly stood and presented a perfect quartering away shot, with the rangefinder reading 205 yards. Coda fired and the bull appeared to stagger, He fired again as the elk almost lost its footing, but then took a few steps downhill. The third shot shaved hair from the neck, as the bull then headed uphill into thicker timber.
We were pretty confident that the shots were good, but with minimal blood found and fresh tracks going everywhere as the herd scattered, an hour and a half of searching produced no bull. I was starting to feel sick, wondering if what had to this point been a perfect day, was going to end with a lost wounded animal and the regrets and second guessing that comes with that.
Zig zagging up the hill and glassing continued to show us just blown down logs, and then finally there he was lying down with his head up looking at us at 80 yards. He was unable to stand and make a run for it, and the crack of the rifle put him out for good.
While skinning him out, we found that the first two shots were within 6 inches of each other and both had angled up through the lower lobes of the lungs and were found next to each other under the skin on the other side near the front shoulder. The Barnes TSX bullets had mushroomed perfectly, and looked to have retained nearly 100% of thier weight. Can't even begin to explain how proud I am of his shooting, his patience and his attitude throughout the whole ordeal.
The bull had travelled 400 yards after taking two shots to the vitals. What incredible and tough animals!
Coda had taken the first shot at 1430 and the last load of meat made it to the truck at midnight. After driving up to Salmon to make sure we had enough gas to make it home, we got back home at 0330, 24 hours after we left the previous morning. That 24 hour period spent getting reaquainted with my son and sharing this adventure is priceless and the memory will never dim. Following my son down off the mountain in the dark, a pack frame on his back with the head and horns.....I could not have been prouder or more greatful for the family I have been blessed with.
Our friend Leonard was instrumental in all aspects of this hunt. He scouted for us while I was overseas, contacted landowners, went along with us on the hunt and carried more than his share of meat off the mountain, as well as gave us a lesson on the "gutless method" of breaking down an elk. Would not have been successful without him. He also took my son out on his first deer hunt last year, while I was overseas, and made sure it was a great, successful experience ( muley doe ).
Now the bad news...After testing the camera the night before, it was dead and even new batteries would not revive it. No field photos from this excursion, is really a bummer.
Best of luck for all of those who still have tags, and thanks to those who have shared thier stories so far.
Now......I get to go try an find another bull, for me! But nothing will beat this day spent with my son.
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